


The Devil Is Raging Inside My Mind

by AU_Queen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Format, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergent, Established Relationship, Grace Bond, Happy Ending, M/M, PTSD, This is not what I had planned, brief descriptions of torture, hand scar, mentions of torture, season 13 never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 12:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15796557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AU_Queen/pseuds/AU_Queen
Summary: Sometimes Sam sees him. And he must still be with Lucifer, because he had died so long ago.





	The Devil Is Raging Inside My Mind

**First Incident**

 

The sun hadn’t even risen when Sam woke up. Dean was still asleep so the kitchen was quiet when Sam trudged inside. Sleep still weighed on him as he shuffled to the coffeemaker to make himself some of the glorious brew. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a large pile of cookies from the jar Dean kept next to the fridge as well as a glass of milk. Someone he vaguely recognized stood there eating them and gold shimmered in the corner of his mind. He knew they weren’t Dean, so he warned them about not eating too many as he poured his coffee. The last thing he wanted was Dean to get mad. Just as he started to leave, it clicked.

Someone was in the bunker. He knew Dean was asleep. It wasn’t Cas. But why had it taken this long for him to realize that. His hunter’s instincts were good, strong. He should’ve immediately noticed. When he whirled around to confront the stranger, he found an empty counter. He spun in a slow circle. Checked every where in the kitchen. But nothing was there. For a moment he just stood there, frozen in his confusion. After a minute, he shrugged and left.

He was tired. His mind must’ve been playing tricks on him.

~

Later in the morning, just as he got to a good part in his new book, Dean came bursting into the library. He looked up in surprise at the force Dean used to throw open the door.

“Where are my cookies?” Dean asked him gruffly.

“What?” Sam frowned at him from the table.

“The cookies I had. They’re almost all gone.” Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe you ate them in your sleep,” Sam rolled his eyes and tried to focus back on his book.

“Really funny, Sammy. Why’d you eat them?” Dean frowned at his younger brother.

“I didn’t!” Sam’s head snapped up and he glared. “Why would I eat them?”

“I don’t know, but I know you’re the only one who could’ve!” Dean pointed an angry finger at him.

“What about Cas?” he threw out.

“We both know Cas doesn’t eat,” Dean huffed.

Sam opened his mouth to answer, and an image of the stranger with his hand in the jar popped into his head. He paused and closed his mouth. “I…” he gaped for a moment, creating the perfect image of a fish out of water. Dean just stared at him pointedly. “I don’t know.”

“Great. Well,” Dean grabbed his keys before he tossed them to Sam. “whenever you’re done blaming nothing for eating my sweets, it’s your turn to go on a grocery run. And don’t forget the pie.”

Sam nodded, but his mind was elsewhere as he remembered the morning. What he saw wasn’t his eyes playing tricks on him. Someone else had actually gotten in the bunker. Or Dean had eaten them without realizing it. It wouldn’t of been the first time. But some part of him knew it was the former. Somehow, someway, someone had gotten in without them realizing.

The back of his mind niggled him with memories of a cold so deep it burned and he felt his heartbeat speed up even as his fingernails dug into his palm.

 

Second Incident

 

He was in the store. The cart he had been unfortunate enough to grab had a wheel that was turned just so, and it made the cart constantly veer to the left. If he had a quarter for everytime he just about ran into something, he’d be able to pay for everything with just the quarters.

His teeth gritted together and he let out a heavy sigh through them when his cart hit the aisle on his left, _again_. It almost made him want to shoot something. He reached into the cart to remove the packet of crackers that had fallen in when he noticed something else. A bag of brightly coloured lollipops, just sat on top the box of oreos. A flash of gold went through his mind, but he ignored it. They were dead. It didn’t matter. The lollipops had probably just fallen into the cart when he passed through the sweets aisle to get the cookies. With a shake of his head he dismissed it and placed them on the shelf next to the crackers.

Eventually he was able to make it to the self checkout. Everything was taken care of and payed for. Pie and cookies were bought, along with some odds and ends they needed, like new milk and lettuce.

The ride back to the bunker felt longer than the one to the store. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to banish the images of golden eyes from his mind. They were dead. It didn’t matter. His mantra since the Metatron incident. And it didn’t seem to be working. For some reason.

Heat of the Moment suddenly playing on the radio didn’t help. He turned it off like it was something evil before the first riff had even managed to finish.

 

When he got back to the bunker, he sighed a breath of relief. All he had to do was put the food away and he could find a case. A nice case and research that would get his mind to stop thinking of a gold so powerful it seemed to encompass everything. _They were dead. It didn’t matter._ He dropped the bag of oreos on the counter for Dean as he got to putting away everything else. Footsteps sounded behind him and he didn’t need to look to know who they belonged to. Dean.

There was a lot of rummaging going on and he turned to face his brother. Dean frowned at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. He held up a bag and Sam blinked. “Why’d you get lollipops?”

“That- I didn’t get that,” Sam looked at him in disbelief. Rounded the counter and plucked them from his grip. Turned them over, examined them. Pink letters spelled out the word ‘Lollipop’ on the front and a few cartoony pictures of the candies covered the bag. It was the bag he had put back, Sam was sure of it.

“Must of,” Dean crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, “Why else would they be there?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered, but the words were soft. His brain was unfocused. At least, unfocused on Dean and the rest of his surroundings. Dean shook his head and left as Sam continued to stare at the bag. Images passed through his head. Gold, so much gold. Golden eyes. Golden hair. Golden laugh. He clenched his eyes shut. They were dead. It didn’t matter. His brain spun and tilted. They were dead. It didn't matter. The hard lollipops made a noise as the bag collided with the bottom of the metal trash can when Sam threw it away.

Cas would be the one to find them in the cupboard later in the week, but he wouldn’t say anything about it.

 

Third Incident

 

Sam was in the middle of research for a difficult case. He was at a table in some dingy motel. The wallpaper closest to him was peeled, and there were stains he couldn’t really make out on the carpet. Not that he really wanted to know what the stains were. They had been in this town for five days already, and in that time span he’d managed to get about eight hours of sleep. So no one could really blame him when one moment he’s staring at a page of lore on his computer, and the next moment he’s waking up. A yawn escaped him and he blearly rubbed his eyes. When he checked the time in the corner of his screen, he learned that barely twenty minutes had passed. He wasn’t sure whether that made him happy or disappointed. Parts of his dream came back and he frowned at the warmth that laugh still managed to make blossom in his gut.

He ran a hand up through his hair. Research. That’s what he had been doing and had to continue doing. Something brown caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A book. A book with a pixie stix on top of it and a steaming cup of coffee next to it. With some hesitation he reached out and grabbed the coffee and book, setting the candy aside. The coffee was to his taste and he smiled absently as the warm liquid slid down his throat to his stomach, making heat spread throughout his body. His attention then turned back to the book. It was a brown, hardback book that he’d never seen before. But it looked old and promising. There was a bookmark, golden, fringed, and faded, that stuck out from a place near the middle. A flip to the page showed just how promising it could be. Once Cas and Dean got back from wherever they were, he’d have to thank them.

~~~~

“It wasn’t me,” Dean shrugged after Sam thanked him for the coffee and book.

“Nor me,” Cas tilted his head, brow crinkled in his confusion.

“Then who-” Sam started, and the golden bookmark stuck out in the corner of his vision. He shut his eyes and shook his head just slightly. They were dead. It didn’t matter. When he blinked his eyes back open, Dean and Cas were staring at him in open concern. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you certain?” Cas asked, the worry apparent in his tone.

“Yes,” Sam snapped. When he saw how Cas flinched at his tone, a part of him twinged in guilt. “Sorry.” He mumbled and Cas nodded.

“Alright,” Dean cracked his knuckles. He pulled the chair out, and it rubbed against the carpet with an odd scraping like sound that caused everyone to grimace slightly before he sat down. “Let’s get back to work.” All parties agreed, and soon the weird appearance of the objects was forgotten. Even if Sam’s attention did move back to that bookmark periodically.

The book ended up being extremely helpful, containing information on how to kill the monster. Right in the chapter the bookmark had indicated.

 

Fourth Incident

 

It had been a few days since Dean and Cas had finally, _finally_ , removed their collective heads from their asses and admitted they loved each other. And Sam was happy. Ecstatic. He really was. Though a large part of him couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy. Not when his mind kept returning to the colour gold and the warmth of shared smiles. Honey laughs and sugar lips. Stupid archangels that had to get themselves killed for someone who really, _really_ , wasn’t worth it. At all.

For the first time in a while that night, he prayed. He prayed to Loki to come back. He prayed to Gabriel to come back. He prayed to Chuck to return his angel, his guardian, to his side. He prayed to anyone that might listen. Even though he knew that every word and that every silent plea would go unanswered.

He fell asleep that night to a snotty nose, a wet spot on his pillow, and a heart that felt almost too heavy to bear.

~~~~

There was an object in front of his nose when he woke up the next morning. He had to cross his eyes to see what it was. When he figured it out, the object felt mocking. Bile built up in him and he thought he would puke. But he didn’t. He just picked up the offending hershey kiss and stomped into the war room.

“Guys, this isn’t funny.” He placed the chocolate down on the table, a bitch face firmly in place as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. The only thing he got in return were two blank stares and he huffed in annoyance. “One of you left this in my room last night.”

Dean and Cas shared a look. “No, we didn’t,” Dean spoke for the both of them. Sam just stared harder, expression turning stony. There was no way it wasn’t them. He wasn’t going to believe Dean’s bullshit.

“He’s telling the truth, Sam. We were together all last night and never entered your room,” Cas told him with such honesty that Sam felt compelled to believe him. Even if that belief was wary.

“If not you, then who?” Sam asked, voice set and expression not wavering. Even as his mind flashed to gold once more. _They were dead. It didn't matter._

“The Easter Bunny?” Dean questioned and Sam turned the look completely on his brother. Immediately Dean held up his hands in defense, “Look, I have no clue. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer.” That did nothing for Sam’s mood and he angrily grabbed the offending piece of chocolate from the table.

“I don’t want a secret admirer,” he grumbled under his breath as he left the room.

There was another look shared between Dean and Cas. Both were worried about Sam. Something had been bothering him for the past couple of weeks, but he hadn’t told either of them what it was. A silent agreement had Dean removing himself from the room to go and try to talk to him.

~~~~

Sam was back in his room when Dean found him. He knocked on the door once before he just let himself in, “Sammy?” The sight he was met with made him pause in the doorway. His little brother was curled in on himself in the middle of his bed, a soft hiccuping causing his back to move slightly despite the lack of any wetness on his face. Suddenly, Sam looked small and young. It reminded Dean of the night of the fire that killed Jess. All the tension released from Dean’s body with one breath. “Sammy.”

Without any hesitation he went to his little brother and wrapped himself around him as best he could. Sam immediately turned to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist. A memory washed over Sam, one of cold metal and closed eyes. Blackened wings burnt into a hard, wooden floor. Then he jolted as the feeling of meat hooks digging in and stretching out his skin and glowing blades searing a dark path in his flesh washed over him. Memories. Memories that felt so, so real. He leaned further into Dean as the tears finally made their way down his cheeks.

“Shh, it’s alright. I gotcha Sammy,” Dean shushed him and rubbed his back. He couldn’t help but continue his track down memory lane to a very different time, back when Sam was so much smaller. When his brother didn’t have to worry so much about the monsters he couldn’t see. The knowledge that he would never see his brother like that again made his heart hurt.

Fifth Incident

 

The scent of chocolate and baking were there when he woke up, and he wanted to scream. It must have been some cruel, twisted thing his mind was doing to him. Making him see evidence of the one being he could never have. Evidence of him living and breathing. _He’s dead. It didn’t matter._ It was all a lie.

 _Had to be_.

Sam had forced Dean to let him back into that hotel. Back to see Gabriel’s body. There, prone on that floor. Wings permanently singed into the wood.. Yet here he was, waking up to the distinct scent of _Gabriel_. The very archangel who gave his life for him. And Dean.

He groaned as he rolled out of bed. A shower could fix this, hopefully. Maybe the steam would purge the smell from his nostrils. Or maybe it would wake him up and he’d learn that it had all been a dream. Lucifer would loom over him with that sneer and say in his high-pitched, sing-song voice ‘Morning, Sammy. Sleep well?’. Then he’d tear into his flesh again and again. Sam shuddered and his skin sung with the remembered feeling as ice flowed roughly through his veins. It felt odd, the phantom pain of hooks and knives that were no longer there. Could no longer be there. Unless this really was a dream. A trick all made by Lucifer- He shook his head roughly as he gathered his clothes, and his fingernails roughly pushed into the scar on his palm on habit. Those days were behind him. He had to remember that. _He had to._

Heavy feet pushed Sam to the bathroom door, and the next thing he knew the shower was on. The water ran hot and the steam coiled from the shower head when he stepped in. His breath hissed out between his teeth as the stream seared his skin, leaving it pink and glowing. It did the trick, and soon the chill lingering from Lucifer left his bones. He ran his hands roughly through his hair. Leaned his head against the shower wall and simply stood there breathing for a few minutes. Logically, he knew the smell was gone. Yet the sweet scent of chocolate still seemed to persist. A sob bordered on the edge of his tongue, but he held it back. It would do no good. _He’s dead. It didn’t matter._

Neither the heat or the mantra made the smell go away, and it followed him for the rest of the day.

 

Sixth Incident

 

There was no sleep to be had after the incident with the smell. Exhaustion pulled at his body, but he wouldn’t let it take him. If he didn’t go to sleep, then he couldn't wake up. And if he couldn’t wake up, then his eyes wouldn’t open to Lucifer smiling down at him. So instead he read and research in the library, all while trying to convince Dean there was nothing wrong with him. It surprised him that Dean even left him alone in the bunker. But he had. Almost- Sam checked his laptop- twenty minutes ago. He couldn’t remember why he had left. Dean had told him, Sam’s sure he had told him, but Sam wasn’t sure he’d actually heard him. Not that it mattered. Ice lapped at the corners of his mind, and he clenched his eyes shut. _No, this is real._ When he opened his eyes, he was met with the library. Books still on their shelves. Laptop still open in front of him. He released a heavy breath and yawned. Then a snap echoed through the library.

Sam went rigid in his seat. Cas was out with Dean, but even if he wasn’t, Cas didn’t snap. To Sam’s knowledge, only archangels snapped to use their power. He shuddered hard at the flash of cold chains being snapped onto his wrists. Knives went down his back, making slow, bloody grooves that would only be healed and recreated at a later time when Lucifer wanted to. Because down there, he was completely at the archangel’s mercy. _It’s just a memory._ His nails dug into his palm.

A voice that didn’t belong anymore whispered his name, softly twice. He ignored it at first. Dug his nails further into the scar, so pinpricks of blood formed on the edges. _He’s dead. It doesn’t matter._ But then it repeated, louder. Clearer. The voice of Gabriel, who had been dead for so so long, whispering his name. It sent him flying over the edge. Sam curled tightly into himself. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Sam Winchester didn’t get good things. He clenched his eyes shut as his palm got sticky. _He’s dead. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead. It doesn’t matter. He’s_ **_dead_ ** _. It doesn’t_ **_matter_ ** _._ Words repeated over and over in his head till they lost meaning as he rocked in that hard chair. Suddenly he was back in that cage, Lucifer’s mocking laugh echoing around him. He hated it, but that was the only answer. He’d open his eyes, and Gabriel would be there. But it wouldn’t be him, not really. His smile would be skewed wrong, and then his eyes would flash that horrible pale red. Lucifer’s laugh would fall from those sweet lips, a tire screech being ripped from the throat of a songbird, as he mocked him. “What, you didn’t believe me, Sammy? Such a shame. It was rather fun those first hundred times when you did.”

A hand landed on his shoulder and he full body flinched.

“Shh, Samsquatch. Sam-a-lam. It’s me. It really is. Please look at me, I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry. Just look at me.” The voice was so different from the one he had been expecting. None of the ridicule. None of the gravel. Just a soft voice, and pleading words. It was enough to make him finally look up and fully take in the person in front of him. Light from the lamp in the corner of the room played off golden hair. Worries and tears danced together in golden eyes. And there was a frown, looking so very foreign, on a face normally full of smirks and humour.

“Gabriel?” The name passed unbidden from between his lips in a light, barely-there exhale.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Gabriel smiled at him, and the forced action pulled painfully at his lips. Yet even forced, the smile seemed somehow… right. _It couldn’t be. He’s dead._ There was a moment of hesitation before Sam wrapped his body around Gabriel’s smaller form. _Gabriel_ . A sob ripped itself from his body, and more sobs and tears immediately joined. Part of him desperately yelled at him to stop. _Get away as fast as you can- it’s just an illusion!_ He knew it to be right. It had to be right. This couldn’t possibly be Gabriel who was here. Who had wrapped him in his arms and was now rubbing his hands up and down his back, humming softly. It just had to be a trick. But his heart sang with every off-key noise that Gabriel made. Gabriel’s heart pounded loudly, as if each beat was trying to tell him it was real. And he was just too tired, too heartsick, to deny it. So he sat there and let himself be comforted by one who should be dead. His eyes felt heavy, and he told himself he would deal with it when he woke up. Would deal with Lucifer’s cruel laughter and twisted smile mocking him Until then, he let the exhaustion pull him to sleep.

 

When he woke up, he was back in his bed. A secondary presence in his room made him tense, and he started to reach for the gun under his pillow. But before his hand wrapped around it, Dean cleared his throat. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and turned over to see his brother in a chair at the foot of his bed.

“Heya, Sammy. How ya feeling?” Dean asked him and Sam shrugged.

“Fine, I guess,” Sam answered. Memories swiped across his mind. So much blood he was blinded. Screams that deafened his ears.

‘Gabriel asked me to keep an eye on you. He was worried if you woke to him, something might happen. Though he wouldn’t say what,” Dean told him, voice dropping angrily at the last sentence. He never did like being out of the loop when his little brother was involved.

“Gabriel?” Sam whispered the name with wide eyes. When it fully registered in his mind, he jumped out of his bed and ran down the hallway. He skidded to a stop in the war room. Cas and Gabe sat at the table, looking up at him in surprise. Sam couldn’t help it as the name tumbled from his lips again, “Gabriel.”

“Hey,” Gabriel smiled softly at him. The two of them stayed where they were for a minute, Gabriel in his seat and Sam in the doorway. Cas left the room without a word to either of them, but even if he had spoken neither would’ve heard him. After what felt like an eternity they were able to shake themselves from their staring long enough to rush toward each other, their bodies colliding somewhere in the middle. Sam leaned his head down and Gabriel brushed a stray strand of hair back behind his ear.

“What took you so long?” Sam whispered, the threat of tears in his voice. “Last time you were only gone a short while.”

“Last time the death was fake. It took me awhile to heal after I was brought back. I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve been sooner,” Gabriel answered, his voice just as quiet as Sam’s.

“So do I.” And Sam’s voice broke on that sentence. He pushed away slightly from the archangel that had wound his arms around his waist, just enough to be able to see his face. There were tears in Gabriel’s eyes. Tears that matched the wetness on his own face. Despite himself, Sam felt a small smile start to form. “This is real?”

“As real as you are,” Gabriel smiled and leaned in to kiss him. With a happy half-laugh, Sam leaned down the remaining inches that still separated them and slotted their mouths together. The warmth that radiated from Gabriel’s body into his comforted him and the grace Gabriel had left behind in his soul sang. Lucifer was never able to replicate the song of a singular grace meeting again, and he knew his words were the truth. That this wasn’t just a trick meant to torture him. He let himself sink into the smaller body, knowing that he would be held.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been just under two years since I first started this story...  
> 


End file.
